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A Summer's OdysseyPart 7
By Jennifer Sue
 
“I apologize, Krista,” Nana soothed. “I had no intention of insulting you. I shouldn’t have called you a girl, you’re a young woman.”
“You don’t understand,” I whined a bit. “I’m a boy.”
 

Part 7

No one said anything for a while. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already decided to stay as Krista,” I declared with more bravado than I felt.

“We’ll all be here for you,” Gram reassured me as Pat nodded in agreement. “What we said before still goes, too. If you decide to go back to being Kristopher, somehow we’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” I forced a smile. “But I think it’s already too late for that.”

“It’s never too late,” Pat declared. “At least not until you’ve feminized your body past the point of no return. But that will be a couple of years.”

Lost in our thoughts, we sat in silence for a long time.

“Will God hate me for becoming a girl?” I softly asked. I could tell my question caught them off guard.

“No,” Gram finally responded. “You said you felt in your soul you should become a girl. God is concerned about our souls, that our inner being is good and honorable and pure. God can see what’s in your heart. The entire congregation saw your soul reflected in your face this morning.”

Biting my lip apprehensively I looked at Gram and Pat. A lone tear trickled down my face. Both instantly stood and reached out for me as I sprang from my seat into their hug.

“Thank you,” I whispered when I’d regained my composure. With a sigh, I left their embrace and walked to the far end of the porch. After a few moments looking at a sliver of water sparkling across the fields to the north, I turned to face them. They stood side by side where I’d left them. Unconsciously I reached up and fondled the emerald broach. “I need to tell Dad.”

They knew they couldn’t dissuade me as much as they knew it was the right thing to do. Just then the sound of the car returning from the point reached our ears. Hastily we all cleaned our faces. The rest of the afternoon was mostly a blur. I kept looking at Dad, wondering how he’d react. I was so afraid I’d lose my new family. Several times, Lisa asked me if I was feeling all right. Each time I responded with a weak smile and nod. I saw Pat sidle up to her after the last time and whisper in her ear. Both looked at me and gave me thumbs up. I was so nervous I couldn’t suppress a giggle. We shared a light supper cook-out of hamburgers and hotdogs, Then the Nelsons headed back to the B&B.

As I stood watching their car disappear into the forest behind the house, I jumped as Dad placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ve been married long enough to pick up the clues,” he explained as he smiled at me. “Pat and your Gram went inside after giving me ‘the look.’ It’s obvious you’ve been deep in thought ever since we got back from the point. Let’s take a walk and talk.”

As we meandered down the road towards the point he placed his arm about my shoulders. I’d never walked with someone’s arm about my shoulder. Somehow it was satisfyingly comfortable and reassuring, while making me feel agonizingly vulnerable and terribly guilty. I was a boy, I shouldn’t be letting my dad treat me like a girl. We walked in silence falling into a comfortable rhythm across the fields, through the forest, across the next fields, through the last patch of forest, and out onto the point. We meshed well. It felt so good to have a father. But I’d been lying to him. I wasn’t fit to be his daughter … or his son … he deserved better. As we approached the cemetery, tears began to trickle down my cheeks and my shoulders softly heaved as I tried to suppress my sobs.

Dad hugged me tighter as we passed through the gate and stood before mom’s grave. “She was a wonderful person,” he whispered hoarsely.

I was surprised, he was choking back sobs!

“I spent months crying myself to sleep every night after she left,” he confessed. “We were so much in love I simply couldn’t understand why she’d run away. Pat missed her too, and we commiserated our loss together. When she told me about the letter, I felt crushed. I was the reason she left. I’d lost control, and she’d paid the price. God how I hated myself. I almost took my own life, but Pat recognized what I was planning and saved me. She told me she’d lost her best friend, and she wasn’t about to lose another. She knew she could never replace your mother in my heart, that she’d always play second fiddle to Carol, but we did fall in love. I already told you I went into law enforcement to try to find her. She left no trails. I’d almost given up hope when the word came in they’d found her body. I was crushed. I was the one who came out and told your Gram she’d been found. We cried together, and I helped pay to have her brought home and buried here. We kept in contact with the authorities in Massachusetts, trying to find you. We were shocked to find out Carol had three children. Everyone feared you’d all drowned.”

Completely losing it, I cried my heart out as I sagged to my knees beside mom’s grave. Dad gently followed me down and knelt by me, pulling me into his strong embrace. I felt his head lower to the top of my head as he stroked my back. Before too long I felt my hair becoming wet from his tears. We cried for several minutes before subsiding into a loving huddle.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” I finally sniffled. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me.”

“Well I sure as hell wouldn’t,” he declared forcefully as he pushed me back a bit to look into my red eyes. “You’re my flesh and blood! I lost your mother, there is no way in hell I’m ever going to lose you!”

“B … But I … I’m n … not your …” I stammered hopelessly as I blearily looked into his tear stained eyes.

“You’re my child, and I’m keeping you,” he declared as he put a shushing finger up to my trembling lips. “The reports from Massachusetts said Carol’s twelve year old son and nine year old twin daughters were missing. All I ever told your Gram and Pat was that her three children were missing.

“When you showed up here I was elated. I was confused when I learned your gram had registered three granddaughters. When I saw you that first day I was stunned. You looked just like your mother when I first fell in love with her. You looked so scared and fragile in that pretty dress. I couldn’t believe you were really a boy. I’ve been trained to see more details than most people, but I couldn’t see any sign that you were a boy. When I got back to the office I notified the Massachusetts police you were all safe with your grandmother and to verify you were a boy.”

“I …” my words were once more cut short by his shushing finger.

“Part of my police training involved sensitivity classes,’ he continued. “I’d heard about trans-people before, years ago, John Hopkins in Baltimore used to provide counseling and sex-change surgery. Then I remembered something that’s made the news and created quite a controversy around here a few months ago. It was about a transsexual pastor at a small United Methodist Church in Baltimore. After serving as the pastor for several years, she underwent surgery to become a man. The congregation welcomed their formerly female pastor back as a male, and the United Methodist Baltimore-Washington Conference reappointed him. I called our pastor, telling him I needed to talk to him right away.”

Naturally I was surprised and speechless.

“How about we sit here,” he smiled at me. “My knees aren’t used to all this kneeling.”

Carefully smoothing my skirt I sat by mom’s grave next to my dad. Pulling out his wallet he removed several folded papers.

“The pastor copied these two articles for me,” Dad explained as he handed them to me. “It helped me understand.”

I took the first and began to read.

 

*****
 
{edit - These are real. - edit}

St. John's and its pastor are reborn.
Church advocates acceptance, love -- starting with its transgender leader.
By Liz F. Kay From the Baltimore Sun July 6, 2007

The pastor of St. John's United Methodist Church wasn't worried about the congregation's reaction to his transition from Ann Gordon to Drew Phoenix.

A banner reading "Praising God, Seeking Justice," hangs outside the Charles Village church. Rainbow cloth is draped from poles inside the Sunday room where members worship. And decades ago, the congregation became an early advocate for full participation of people within the church regardless of sexual or gender identity.

Now Phoenix, who chose the reference to the mythological beast for his last name as a symbol of his rebirth as a man last year, is helping St. John's rise from its own ashes. The church's sanctuary was destroyed by a fire in 1981, and the congregation had dwindled to about eight or 10 dedicated members when Phoenix -- then known as the Rev. Ann Gordon -- arrived five years ago. Today as many as 50 adults and children regularly attend services there, and the congregation is beginning the first stages of renovating its building for more community use.

"Everyone can sort of walk in on Sunday, and everyone just sort of accepts them," says Kara Ker of Wyman Park, who joined in 1998. "He has definitely created a space where everyone's ideas are heard, where people have a chance to grow."

And St. John's became the nurturing environment that Phoenix needed to finally recognize and accept that the female gender he was born with did not match the male identity he says he believes God had given him. "It made it much easier. To be supported by the congregation I'm serving is pretty remarkable," he says.

The 48-year-old grew up in a small farm town in southern Ohio and became a Methodist as an adult, while attending graduate school at American University. Phoenix felt the call to ordination and entered Washington's Wesley Theological Seminary in 1986. He was assigned to several congregations in Maryland
before the Baltimore-Washington Conference of the United Methodist Church placed him in charge of St. John's in 2002.

"I don't believe in coincidences. It had to be divine intervention," Phoenix says.

Founded in 1828, just five blocks north of the birthplace of Methodism in the United States, St. John's was an early base of Methodist Protestantism. It emphasized justice and opposed the establishment of a hierarchy in
favor of power to the laity, Phoenix says.

In the 1970s, it became the 13th congregation to join the Reconciling Ministries Network, which promotes full participation of gays and lesbians in ministry. In addition to inviting in gay, lesbian and transgender members, the church operates an emergency shelter and has housed political refugees.

"It had a long history of being inclusive," Phoenix says. "I was elated to be appointed here."

When he decided to pursue surgery and hormone treatment last year, he told members individually and then in larger groups. "I assumed it would not be a problem at St. John's, which it was not," Phoenix recalls.

The congregation's Web site bills St. John's as "worshiping a radically inclusive God." Last month, church members marched in the city's Pride Parade with a float expressing the theme "This ain't your daddy's church."

But some within the United Methodist Church are raising questions about the roles transgender people ought to serve, calling for a broader denomination-wide discussion.

Last month, Phoenix was received with applause when he discussed his transgender identity and decision to live as a man during the regional conference's annual meeting. But some fellow clergy called for a "rule of law" on the decision to reappoint him to St. John's, although the Methodists' Book of Discipline -- a compilation of church legislation -- has no references to transgender issues.

The ruling would be reviewed by the Judicial Council, the denomination's highest legal authority, which meets in October.

"We've been very thankful that so far the church has had no restrictions for transgender folks who are called to serve in ministry," says the Rev. Troy Plummer of the Reconciling Ministries Network.

Phoenix's transition and reappointment could join a broader discussion about the place of lesbians and gays within the church.

Methodism does not now allow non-celibate gays and lesbians to be ordained or appointed as clergy. And the growth of the church in Africa -- where congregations of all Christian faiths tend to be more conservative politically and ideologically -- is sure to create more tension with respect to the issue, Phoenix says, as it has with the Episcopal Church.

"I think the Council of Bishops is in this very challenging place, of balancing new constituency and their beliefs and politics, ideological understandings with everyone else's," Phoenix says. "There's a [feeling of] not wanting to rock the boat."

The discussion could lead to the examination of questions such as marriage of trans- gender Methodists. As an unmarried pastor, Phoenix says he took a vow of celibacy. But he is legally considered a male in the state of Maryland and can get married here, he says.

Few other Christian denominations have ruled on the matter above the parish or diocesan level. Catholics have banned transgendered people outright from religious order; there are isolated examples of ordained transgender clergy in large denominations. About 60 transgender clergy attended a transgender religious summit last fall organized by the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies in Religion and Ministry at the Pacific School of Religion.

"There are no real policies on the books of the denominations," says the Rev. Dr. Jay E. Johnson, the center's acting executive director. "It's an open question for the U.S. legal system and states, as well as in religious circles."

While serving at St. John's, the pastor became aware of the possibility of female-to-male sex changes. The change would end the dissonance between his birth gender and his perception of himself -- as well as the perception of those around him.

For years, people have yelled at him or called security when he entered women's restrooms. When he would introduce himself as "Ann," they would comment on his interesting family name -- for a guy.

He was even asked to present identification when picking up his credentials at two annual meetings of the Baltimore-Washington conference.

Phoenix had initially served as pastor of St. John's as well as Rodgers Forge United Methodist. After Phoenix told Bishop John R. Schol about his plans to transition to life as a man, the pastor left the Baltimore County church and the St. John's congregation increased its contribution to his salary.

"I was really pleased that Drew was able to do something like this without fearing for his job and without fearing for his church," says Lexa Newman, who followed her pastor from Rodgers Forge UMC. "Now Drew gets to be the gender he has identified as being all his life, without being a different person than the phenomenal person that Ann was."

During a recent Sunday morning, about 30 people sat in folding chairs arranged in a semicircle facing Phoenix, who wore khakis, not vestments. Children ate snacks at low tables to the side, and piano music accompanied all four verses of each hymn. The pastor, standing near an informal altar, led a discussion rather than a traditional sermon. Afterward the group gathered for what they described as a "cook-in" due to the bad weather.

Phoenix "has been a wonderful shepherd to this congregation," says Carrie Frias of Lauraville, noting that God's message hasn't changed despite the pastor's transformation. "There's a presence. This is somebody who is happy with who they are and happy to reflect who they are."
 

*****
 
“Wow, that’s really something,” I said. “Is our church part of the same conference?”

“Yes,” Dad answered.

“So … does this mean the pastor knows about me too,” I softly asked as I felt butterflies in my stomach.

“He saw my reaction and asked,” Dad confessed. “I was too shook up to deny it and he figured it out. You have nothing to fear from him. He said you were a child of God and would be welcomed, which he did this morning. Now, read the next article.”

Taking the second article I began to read.

 

*****
 
Statement to the plenary session of the Baltimore-Washington Conference May 24, 2007

The Rev. Drew Phoenix delivered the following statement in a session of the Baltimore-Washington Conference of the United Methodist Church. Formerly, the Rev. Ann Gordon, Drew Phoenix is a female to male transgender person

Last fall, after a lifelong spiritual journey, and years of prayer and discernment, I decided to change my name from Ann Gordon to Drew Phoenix in order to reflect my true gender identity and to honor my spiritual transformation and relationship with God. My transition to live fully as the male I know myself to be is very personal and deeply spiritual.

As a Christian, I worship God – I AM {edit - it is recorded in the Old Testament that God called himself ‘I AM’ - edit}. People frequently asked Jesus, “Who are you?” His response was, “Who do you say I am?” “Who do YOU say YOU are?”

I believe that our spiritual path is, in great part, the answer to: Who am I? I am ...

I realize that my transition may be confusing and surprising for those of you who have known me for years but were unaware of what I was going through. I am glad that I finally have the opportunity to share.

It is my intention and hope that, by sharing my story – my relationship with God and my spiritual journey – we will commit ourselves to becoming educated about the complexity of gender and gender identity and open ourselves to those in our congregations who identify as transgender.

When I was born, society declared that I was a girl, and my parents named me Ann Gordon. But for as long as I can remember I have felt like a boy, acted like a boy, dressed like a boy and wanted to hang out with the boys. And for the first several yeas of my life, my parents let me by my boy-self. In fact, I was referred to by everyone in our small town as my father’s son, Dave Gordon’s son.

So it was very difficult when I reached puberty to be pressured by family, friends, church and community to conform, to dress and act, like a female. At the time (unlike now), there was no language or body of knowledge about gender identity, and certainly no available medical expertise, to help me describe and understand the disconnect I was experiencing between my physical, external self and my internal, spiritual self. I identify as male. The gender I was assigned at birth has never matched my own true, authentic, God-given gender identity … how I know myself.

Fortunately, today, God’s gift of medical science is enabling me to bring my physical body into alignment with my true gender. I am making this transition under the care of an excellent medical team. I am grateful for their expertise. They have been instruments of God’s grace for me.

As I continue to transition, to fully claim myself as a male, I find myself coming home to the Child God created me to be. I find myself joyful, whole, and peaceful. And I find myself even more effective as a pastor.

You may ask what effect this is having on the church I am currently serving, St. John’s of Baltimore City. I can tell you that St. John’s is growing and thriving on its Discipleship Adventure. In the past 5 years, membership has quadrupled, for the first time in years families with children are participating, stewardship has tripled, several new ministries have been initiated, and the congregation has plans to begin renovating its old, historical building in order to be more efficient, effective, and relevant in its vision and mission.

As I have chosen to transition, the congregation has studied, listened, and prayed in order to understand and embrace the meaning of my transition within my call to ministry and within our call as a congregation. My prayer, and greatest concern always is that the congregation continues to grow and thrive.

Gender identity diversity is not easy for most people to understand, as we have been steeped in an either/or, male/female-only understanding of gender. It is hard to believe that our bodies do not tell the whole story about what we are. I assure you that I am not one-of-a-kind, that there are many people like me in our congregations who are suffering with the disconnect that I have felt.

Jesus’ central message is that God’s love and grace extend unconditionally to all of us, not because we look a certain way or have a particular identity, but because we are all children of God created in God’s image. Each of us is a beloved child of God. No exceptions.

Today, in your congregation, in your communities, are young people and adults struggling with who they are and how they fit in. Maybe their families do not understand them; perhaps their friends have isolated them. They are wondering if they fit into the church. As Christians it is essential that we communicate to them God’s unconditional love and their worth and value as children of God made in God’s image. You can begin that process today as I stand here and witness to the complexity and joy of God’s creation.
 

*****
 
“Wow,” I said as I looked over at Dad.

“Wow indeed,” he answered with a smile. “I assume Gram, Pat, and the Nelsons know?”
“Yeah,” I replied softly. “I was going to try to go back to being a boy, but Gram couldn’t afford any boy’s clothes, and then you came … and I was scared … then when you gave me this …” I declared as I cradled the pendant he’d given me.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he said.

“Yes I do,” I declared. “I’ve felt terrible hiding the truth from you, but I couldn’t see any way to do it, then after today, I knew I just had to tell you.”

“I’m glad,” he said with a smile. “The sun will soon be going behind the trees. Why don’t you tell me why you’re a girl as we walk back?”

Standing, he helped me to my feet and smiled as I brushed the grass and leaves from my skirt. As we headed home he once more slipped his arm about my shoulders. It felt even better this time as there was no sense of guilt. Dad listened to my story, including my reasoning for remaining a girl.

“Krista, you are even more amazing than I thought,” he stated after questioning me on several details. “I’m proud to be your father. I’ll support you as my daughter or as my son. All I ask is that you be sure becoming a girl is really what you want … and never be afraid to talk to me. That’s how I lost your mother … and missed the first thirteen years of your life.”

“What I don’t understand is why you gave me the pendant,“ I sighed. “I mean, you’d kept it all these years, then you gave it me knowing I was really your son.”

“When I first saw you, I realized there was so much of your mother in you,” he explained. “I knew a boy masquerading as a girl couldn’t be as natural and relaxed as you are. I could sense that in your soul you were a girl, but you still hadn’t reached the point where you could accept becoming the girl you were meant to be. You are your mother’s daughter, I had no choice but to give the pendant to you. The way you accepted it only confirmed what I’d felt. In your soul, you’re all girl. Just remember, you don’t have to become a girl. You can still be a boy where it counts and live as a girl. How you live is your choice, and I’ll support you whatever your decision.”

It was twilight as we reached the house. Our smiles told Pat and Gram we’d had our discussion. The three adults then began apologizing to each other about keeping my secret.

“Enough,” I finally laughed. “We all did what we thought best. But let’s not have any more secrets, okay?”

We had a group hug which was soon mobbed by four munchkins.

After a solid breakfast we followed Gram into the attic and began going through cartons holding our mother’s outgrown clothes. We found three pairs of slacks that I could fit into, another four pair the twins could wear. We’d just put them in the wash when we heard a car pull up outside. It was about mid-morning and a social worker had arrived to interview us. We recognized her from church and greeted each other warmly. There were no major issues and she gave Gram tentative approval to keep us. Naturally, the courts would have to certify everything, but she assured us that since we’d been baptized, and Dad and Pat were going to adopt us, it would be a slam-dunk.

We’d just finished hanging the slacks on the wash line when the Nelsons joined us for a light lunch. Afterward, they sat with Gram and worked out a rental/lease for the house down on the point. The twins and I took our resurrected slacks and headed upstairs. After changing, we removed all stored items and thoroughly cleaned the unused bedrooms. Most of the unused items we boxed up, marking the contents on the onside, and took to the barn. About mid-afternoon the Nelsons bid us goodbye. They had to return home to New Jersey to tie up their affairs and sell their home. They planned to return just before school started, to settle in on the point.

Just after the Nelsons left, Pat arrived with the boys. We helped bring several bags of groceries from her minivan into the kitchen. It was then I learned the rest of Dad’s family would be joining us for supper. When things were cooking, Gram sent us upstairs to change into dresses to meet our new family. The girls were excited, as I was, but I also felt a bit apprehensive about masquerading in front of our growing family.

Late that afternoon a sturdy 2005 F350 four door heavy duty crew cab pick-up truck with a sign on the side ‘Scott & Sons - General Contracting’ came out of the forest and pulled up beside Pat’s minivan. Dad stepped from the back door as the late middle aged driver emerged. He looked so much like Dad I realized he had to be my paternal grandfather! A woman who came around the from the other hand and took his hand, my other grandmother! Following behind the truck was a 2004 Expedition. A younger version of Dad stepped out and reached in the back to unbuckle a little girl from a car seat. A woman carrying a baby joined them from the other side.
Then we heard a low throbbing roar echoing from the forest lined road. Leroy and Peter immediately began to grin and moved to get a good line of sight down the road. The sound rapidly grew and in a few seconds a big snarly Harley thrummed into view, a 2006 Harley V-Rod.

The driver pulled to a halt and turned off the engine, but not before twisting the grip three times to gun the engine in massive roars that echoed back and forth across the fields for almost a minute. My ears were literally ringing! Easily pulling a long leg over the saddle, he unbuckled his WWI styled spiked German helmet. A big smile filled his face as he shook his long hair free. This young man had to be Dad’s even younger brother. I felt myself blushing as he looked me over before mischievously winking at me.

“Larry Allen Scott, how many times do I have to tell you NOT to break everyone’s ears with that thing,” the woman I assumed was my grandmother scolded her son.

“Sorry,” he said barely suppressing a chuckle. “It’s just I know that LJ and Peter like it when I do that.”

‘LJ?’ I briefly wondered who LJ was, but quickly realized it was a nick-name for Leroy Jr.

“Hahh, children,” she scoffed. “Jane, I apologize for my baby’s poor behavior.”

Stung by the effective barb, Larry made a face as he hung his helmet from the handle bars.

Dad quickly made the introductions and hugs were exchanged all around. Fortunately Larry didn’t hug me, but he did reach behind me to playfully tug my ponytail. His presence unnerved me, not that I feared him, but he made me feel a bit weak-kneed. I’d never reacted to a boy like that before. I tried to excuse my interest by thinking it was the motorcycle, but quickly realized I was intrigued by my uncle. For the first time I found myself drawn to a boy in ways I’d never felt before … yuck … although he was cute … argh … I was reacting like a boy-crazed girl … ‘I guess I really am a girl.’

My grandparents were Robert and Sheila, I was to find out they were 48 and 47. They insisted Lyndi, Teri, and I call them Pappy and Nana, like their other grandchildren. Next was my uncle David and his wife Laura, both 24, and their children, three year old Wanda and one year old DJ, David Junior. We’d already met 18 year old Larry who had recently graduated from high school.

Robert ran the family contracting business while Sheila ran the office. Both boys worked for the business, as did eight other full time workers.

Lyndi and Teri promptly led Wanda out to show her all Gram’s pretty flowers. I blushed as Laura handed DJ to me. I was openly surprised, and pleased, to be so rapidly trusted.

“Krista hasn’t had much experience with babies,” Gram smiled.

“Well, girl, it’s about time you learned,” Laura smiled. “He won’t break. We’ve heard how responsible you are, and Larry and I are in need of a trustworthy babysitter. We’ll start you off at the going rate, $10.00 an hour, when you’re ready.”

I shifted him into a more comfortable position and DJ looked up at me and smiled. My heart melted as I cooed at him, making him giggle.

“She’s a natural,” Sheila chuckled. “Leroy, you were being too modest when you told us what a wonderful person Krista is”

Naturally I blushed happily. I sat on the porch swing and began pushing. DJ continued giggling as he snuggled into my embrace. Two months before, if anyone had even suggested I’d be happy wearing a dress cuddling a baby, I’d have reacted quite violently. Now it seemed right and natural. Except for some memories, I realized there wasn’t much of my boyish past left in me anymore.

Gram, Pat, and Nana headed inside to finish preparing the feast while Laura joined me on the swing. Pappy, Dad, and his brothers piled into the truck and headed down the road to check the house the Nelson’s would soon be in.

Laura questioned me about our trip, and how I’d managed to keep it all together during our odyssey. Gram and Nana joined us after a few minutes, sitting in rockers. We made small talk for a bit while I fought my internal demons. I knew I should tell them I was a boy, to do otherwise would make me a liar. It wasn’t too long before my thoughts grew dark and I fell silent.
“Krista,” Gram called out which caused me to jumped a bit. I was in such a funk I hadn’t noticed the three women had joined us on the porch and were looking at me, their concern plainly evident. DJ had fallen asleep in my arms. Biting my lips, I felt tears come to my eyes.

“”I’m sorry,” I blurted as the tears really began flow. Despite my anguish, I gently passed DJ back to Laura, then slipped off the swing, intending to run to my room to hide.

Gram blocked me and wrapped me in a warm enveloping hug. Burying my face in her embrace I cried my eyes out. When I finally cried myself out, Gram turned me to face Nana and Laura. “They won’t bite” was all she said as I looked down at my skirts.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But I’m not the good girl you think I am.”

“I’m a good judge of people, running the office for the business I meet all sorts of people,” Nana declared. “I’m seldom wrong about my opinion of people. You are a sweet, adorable good girl.”

All I could do was to shake my head. “I may be a sweet, adorable, and good, but I’m not a girl.” My voice trembled as I spoke.

“I apologize, Krista,” Nana soothed. “I had no intention of insulting you. I shouldn’t have called you a girl, you’re a young woman.”

“You don’t understand,” I whined a bit. “I’m a boy.”
 

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To Be Continued...

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